


London Eyes

by gillyAnne



Category: The Fall (TV 2013), The X-Files
Genre: F/F, London
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gillyAnne/pseuds/gillyAnne
Summary: Stella takes Scully to new heights on the night of their one month anniversary of living in London, but Dana is afraid to fall.
Relationships: Stella Gibson & Dana Scully, Stella Gibson/Dana Scully
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	London Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to twitter ladies @StellafknScully for the prompt and the mental image, @enigmascully and @CallMeScully (I see a brand here, do you?) for the support and the beta. I wouldn't have been able to even think of doing this without you.  
> The story loosely follows my Stella & Scully universe. It is also the first fic I wrote from this perspective and I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed it.

It’s a beautiful, warm evening in London. One of those ones you always wish for, but rarely see granted. 

As I make my way down to the reception desk I already hear the timbre of your voice. The note I’d left for you had said to meet me here, 7PM, and it had told you not to be late. Not that you ever were, I simply liked the sound of it.

Somehow your hair is always the first thing I see. It is bright red still, flowing down your back in loose waves devoid of any artificial coloring or styling. I love it like this, where I can run my hands through it without ruining an hour's worth of straightening and brushing and oh, I know what a pain that can be – I spend more time than you in our shared bathroom every morning. Every morning since you moved in with me, into our new apartment, here, in London. One month ago. Today we’ve been living together for one full month. The date snuck up to me, I’m usually extremely good at remembering dates and anniversaries but somehow, where you’re concerned, everything is a bit messy. Not bad messy, just… mixed up and muddled and not logical, but no less perfect for it.

Perfect. That’s the only thing I want for this evening, and I know that if anyone is to fuck it up it’ll be me, because you are never anything less than. It scares me how perfect your flaws are. Mine long to be half as beautiful and innocent as yours, but alas, I cannot be saved by anyone but you – the only one that has ever wanted or needed me exactly as I am, flaws and all. You’ve even said my flaws are the reason you love me, and I wish I could love myself like you do.

But I’m destined to love you, not myself, and the reasons why keep overwhelming me in their abstract forms day after day. I don’t know why, but the curve of your back calls to me. I don’t understand how, but as I walk into the lobby of the Met headquarters my feet no longer need my brain's direction. I know I shouldn’t kiss you here, technically, but I also know nothing but the gentle slope of your lips.

You remain quiet as you watch me approach, and for a moment I fear I'm about to overstep some invisible line you might have. But you’re one move ahead as you always are, and your body moves with mine when I get close and your hand cups my face before I can think of doing the same to you. Your smile matches mine and I kiss you hello, fully aware that you’re allowing me to kiss you first even though you are, as usual, the one who is leading my way.

‘Hello,’ you say, and I just smile and nod because I know you understand me. Looking around I say goodnight to the few coworkers that I see and I offer you my arm, and my heart leaps when you do not question me, but instead just weave your limb around mine and politely smile at my colleagues as you allow me to take you wherever I want to go. I haven’t told you the plan, I just told you to show up, and you did.

You tell me about your day as we walk along the Thames. You bought a coffee table you say, you hope I like it. I’m sure I will, and even if I don’t you won’t notice it any time soon as I’m far more interested in you than in any item of furniture you want to bring into our house. The fact that we took a month to buy a coffee table indicates how busy we both have been and it catches me off-guard how good it feels to just walk here, with you, in the quiet of a random Tuesday evening. Your voice tells me about a type of wood, the coloring of which you found to be exactly right and as I chuckle at your sudden interest in teak that’s when I notice – you are wearing my skirt.

You haven’t said anything about the date yet, but I’m certain you know what day it is. In fact I suspect you might think I’ve forgotten, but you’re taunting me with the skirt – it was the skirt you slid off me on our first night in London. I like the way you tease, and know that, if I ignore it long enough, it will eat away at your resolve until you frustratedly point it out to me. And then I just get to smile, and kiss you.

When we turn onto the Westminster Bridge I feel your hand close around my arm. You didn’t expect to go this way, you’re walking into a mystery – and that’s exactly the plan. Usually it’s you who surprises me, time and time again you twist and turn quietly and seamlessly into unpredictability and it’s curious, fascinating, and intoxicating. It’s addictive, Dana, and one can only hope to control an addiction if there’s something else keeping them sane.

Control.

I’ve always been addicted to control. Ever since I was a little girl I was taught that if I wanted to survive, I needed to learn how to use control. Take it, relinquish it, hide it – keep it. You are the first person that challenged my need for control with your own – challenged it by letting it go, fully and completely, right in front of me. And then, without words, asking, no, demanding of me to do the same in return. I lost control to you and I lost my heart to you. I don’t regret a thing.

Tonight will be about you. I want to show you my city, your city now, like everything I own is now yours to do with whatever you please. You’ve already taken over my desk, claiming it is the perfect height for you and I can work at the kitchen table, which is true, and somewhere deep down I like your territorialism but I don’t necessarily want you to know that yet. You’ll find out soon enough. 

We turn the corner to walk down the steps towards the promenade and you shiver. ‘Where are you taking me?’ your voice asks. It sounds little, maybe even tired, and I worry for a second. ‘I’m showing you your home,’ I say, before dropping a kiss in your hair. You angle your chin up and your eyes find mine - you do look tired. And there’s something else. A glint of something that I can’t identify in the dim light of the falling evening. Before I can figure out what it is you’re trying to tell me, or ask me, your eyes fall to my lips and then back onto the pavement in front of us. Our strides match perfectly, and quietly we stroll down further and further until we’re right underneath the almighty gaze of the London Eye. 

I stop and reach into my bag. You sigh in relaxation and shiver again - it’s not cold, maybe you’re just not used to wearing skirts anymore. I find what I’m looking for and pull out two pieces of paper. Your eyes widen as you see what I hold in my hand - two entry tickets. ‘I think it’s closed, Stel,’ you mutter as you straighten your spine. I tell you nothing is ever closed to someone who keeps an open mind, and you just look me over as if you’re trying to dissuade me from whatever it is I’m about to do. ‘Come on,’ I tell you, and my free hand finds its way to yours. I advance but you stop me, rooted to the floor like an age-old tree unable to be moved even by Mother Nature’s fury. ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, and it’s at that moment that my brain recognizes the glint in your eyes - fear.

I look up at the steel giant in front of us and I wonder what it is that has you afraid. ‘Dana, what’s wrong,’ I say softly, and I feel your hand clench mine a little tighter. ‘Nothing,’ you attempt to say in a voice that doesn’t speak of everything. My heart falters because like I feared, I may have fucked up already, but I attempt to conceal any unwanted emotion. I'm good at that. But you're better and you'll notice if I say anything. I just look at you, knowing the power of silence is much louder than any words could ever be and you buckle under the pressure, letting go of my hand and turning your back to me as you walk to the barrier overlooking the river. I follow you, not keen on having your back towards me for any longer than it already has been and I stand next to you, my arm touching yours as I focus on the waves as well as trying to discern your mood. Silence prevails and you turn towards me. 

‘I’m afraid,’ you say, and if I weren’t looking straight at you I wouldn’t believe that was your voice. You swallow and I see your lip tremble, and suddenly it makes sense. You never did like to fly.

‘Have you ever been?’ I circumvent the subject, not yet wanting to change my plan. I put a lot of work into this and if I still have any say in the matter we’re celebrating this day on top of the fucking world. You shake your head and look out across the river again. Not thirty minutes ago we were there, on the other side. You were happy, but now everything has changed and you’re afraid, the one thing I never want you to feel around me. You can be angry, sad, confused, even disappointed - but please Dana, don’t be afraid. I look up at the white beams that will keep us safe. My body pushes itself off the railing to stand straight, facing you, and you look at me over your shoulder like you’re expecting me to walk away. Instead I just wait, wait for you to initiate, to make the next move - and you do, of course you do. You smile a half-smile and lean your body into mine, sideways, tucking your head in the curve of my neck. ‘I’ll do it,’ you whisper. ‘But you have to promise me you won’t let me go.’ 

In that instant I promise it all. I pull back and reach out my hand, finding yours, and this time I hold it as if we’re both walking on shaky grounds. You look at me fiercely, and I see determination in your eyes - This is the woman you fell in love with, my heart tells me. Protect her. She asked you to protect her. 

I stand squarely on my heels, holding onto your hand as I see you collect yourself. You shoot one last look up into the sky and when you turn back to me you’re here, in the moment, with me. ‘Lead the way,’ you say and it’s the bravest thing you’ve done. I realize, as I hand the security guard our passes, that you must feel like I’m holding your life in my hands and that is an awfully large responsibility, but I’d like to show you that I’m up for the job. The guard lets us in, of course, and even though the London Eye is mostly empty (it’s supposed to be closed, Dana, you’re right,) he makes us wait while a few empty pods pass. Time ticks by and I pull you in gently to stand in front of me, my hand firmly on your hip. You’re doing a breathing exercise and are trying to disguise it, and I wordlessly align my breaths with yours to help you keep a steady rhythm. You hear the air fill and abandon my lungs, feel it on your skin and I’m immensely grateful to see your shoulders relax a little as you breathe with me. ‘We’ll be okay,’ I whisper to you. ‘It’s beautiful, you’ll see.’ You nod and keep breathing in, out. In, out.

The man at the gate finally finds a pod he finds suitable for us and he steps aside, gesturing for us to step inside the pod. The wheel doesn’t stop moving, and even though it’s slow enough I worry you might not be ready. He and I both notice how you freeze a little, even though you do you best to set yourself in motion, and he chuckles. ‘It’s perfectly safe,’ he says, and the sarcasm in his voice hits a nerve with me but I say nothing, I just grasp your hand firmly and guide you inside. You follow me, faster and with more grace than I would have imagined, until the guard rudely shakes his head at your fear. ‘Nobhead,’ I whisper to you, and I’m delighted to know you still chuckle.

Inside the pod a bottle of champagne is waiting, alongside a box of chocolates and even though I’m not a romantic, these things usually repulse me, I’m glad I made the effort this time. You don’t need to know this is called a Cupid’s Pod, that’s information I’ll keep to myself, but it’s all worth it as I see a shimmer of surprise in your eyes. ‘For me?’ you ask, and for a moment you seem to have forgotten you’re about to be 440 feet up in the air. I nod and you sit down on the bench in the middle of our pod, and for the first time you notice we’re slowly but surely moving up over the river. ‘We’ll see the sun set,’ you point out, and I smile because yes, my dear, that’s what we did one month ago, don’t you remember? Only you were naked and so was I, and we were in a structure that we would henceforth refer to as our home.

‘You had dinner, right?’ I ask, because even though I know we discussed this yesterday I don’t want you to drink champagne on an empty stomach and get sick. You're probably a little nauseous already. You nod and rub your hands over the tops of your legs. I decide to join you, the bottle of champagne in my hand as I carefully open it. You watch the cork intently, anything to keep your mind off of the movement in front of you, and I wish I’d have known about your fear of heights before. The cork pops loudly and you jump a little. I’m sorry, Dana. 

‘What’s the occasion?’ you ask as I hand you the glass, holding mine up as I think about what to say. I shrug, seemingly indifferent. ‘My contact threw this in for free. I didn’t ask for it.’ Your chin goes up. The color of your irises is lit up by the light outside and if London were a color, Dana, this would be it. ‘Aahh,’ you say, and the squint of your beautiful eyes tells me this is one more lie I didn’t get away with. ‘No occasion, I just wanted to show you the view,’ I insist. You purse your lips and hold up the glass. ‘To the view, then.’ I smile at you, admiring your courage as you decide to accept my twisted truth as yours not for the first time today. ‘The view,’ I agree, and the clink of our glasses mirrors the sparkle in my heart and it signifies a lot more than a simple toast.

Halfway through your glass you stretch your neck to carefully look outside. ‘How long do we have?’ you ask. I put down my champagne and open the box of chocolates, hold one out to you and set it down lightly in the palm you offer me. ‘Two rotations,’ I say vaguely. ‘Did your contact throw that in too?’ you quip, and I shake my head in defeat. 

I see your hand shake lightly as you put down your glass, and I don’t ask you if you’re fine because I know you would think me a fool and say yes. Only you’re not fine, and I want to know how I can help. The fact that you are here, with me, even though inside you must be terrified speaks of a trust I know only from my own feelings for you. ‘We can get off after one, if you want,’ I say, offering you a way out. ‘We’ll see nothing we haven’t seen before if we stay.’ You bite your lip and shift a little closer to me, your hands holding the edge of the seat. ‘No,’ your voice sounds determined, ‘I want to stay.’ I fear you’re just torturing yourself for my sake but then your hand finds its way onto my thigh and you sigh deeply. ‘So… What direction are we looking in?’ you say, and your bravery shines as brightly as the last rays of sunlight. 

My fingers intertwine with yours and I feel your slightly sweaty palm in mine. ‘West, South-West,’ I say, pointing to where the sun is now shining its warmth straight towards us. The light hits your hair and I watch as you close your eyes for a few seconds, absorbing everything around us and grounding yourself before you open them again and turn fully towards me. ‘I want to go look by the window, but you have to help,’ you admit softly. 

There it is again, a feeling I haven’t experienced in a while but one that I’ll never forget - it’s you, putting your life fully and willingly in my hands. What I feel goes beyond protectiveness. It’s an instinct, one that had never been used outside of work before I met you. I can’t put words to it but you don’t need me to, we both know what it feels like and we accept it for what it is. I love you, too much I'd say, but by the scale of Stella Gibson every ounce of the emotion called love was always deemed too much. You changed that for good when you brought your own scale into our home. A glass one, and it's broken, but you say that's why you like it so much. 

I don’t pretend to know what you need. I know you’re scared, you’re probably feeling sick at the mere thought of being this high up in the air. Yet you still push on, and I rely on you to tell me what you require, because we’ve never needed a lot of words to understand each other. You roll your shoulders and sigh before carefully standing up. I stand with you, a little in front of you like a guard on high alert. We’re almost at the top already, and I marvel at the sight of my city so gloriously golden in front of me and suddenly all I want to do is show you our home. 

You’re still holding my hand and I think all you need is perhaps a little time, and we have time. Now that we’re here, in London, we have more time than I ever thought we’d have and it scares me at night sometimes but it also makes me realize something. Time has always been the most valuable thing we can spend, together, and oh Dana, I’ve never felt richer than I have in the past month. Every second with you I know I’m right where I need to be and I wish I could tell you that, but I don’t have the words, so I rely on you to understand me when my hand touches your lower back and pulls you closer to me. 

Next to me you advance, and the skin underneath your coat somehow trembles. I hold on tight and give you the lifeline you desire, and little by little you overcome your fear and find your place beside me.

‘Take control,’ you say hoarsely, and suddenly the shiver that runs across your back makes sense to me. The fear turns you on as much as it paralyzes you. Of course, you’ve been on rooftops and in planes more times than you can count, and one way or another your body has found a way to cope with that energy. You must have excused yourself a million times after being in a place of elevation, trying to come down from your own personal high that was sometimes fear, sometimes a little more, and the fact that it took me so long to find out shows me once again that you might be the most unpredictable creature I’ve ever come across. It excites me to know that somewhere, deep down, you’re capable of enjoying this if only I play my cards right. 

My body reacts to the tone in your voice. It calls to me, spurs me into action and pulls me in and another instinct entirely takes over. I widen my stance slightly, pulling you to stand between me and the curve of the glass as I let my body barely touch yours beyond the iron grip you have on my hand. You lean back at first, asking me to safeguard you. Oh darling, you don’t need to be protected, least of all by me - but if you want me to I can pretend for now that I’m not completely at your mercy instead. 

You raise your chin in mock bravery and I feel your hand tremble in mine for a moment. The sun is going down rapidly now, wrapping everything around us in a magical blanket of fairy tales, and I admire the glow that reflects sundown on your skin. Your gentle smile brings out the beauty of your life even more and I feel very much in love, but I also feel proud because I’m at least marginally responsible for putting that glow there today and hopefully forever. 

My eyes close for a moment as I push you forward a little more. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I cannot see but I resort to feeling and my brain finds yours and we exist a little brighter in all of our senses. I don’t need to look at you to know that you too have closed your eyes, and I breathe out against the fiery tresses that cover your neck as I feel your hand pull mine around you. You release my fingers as they lie on the waistband of your skirt, my skirt, and I realize I didn’t notice you taking off your coat.

As I become aware of the warmth of your body under my palm I feel the air leave me slowly, your warmth and scent penetrating all of my uncovered senses. Maybe I am keen on having your back towards me, I revise my earlier thought - this isn’t you turning away, it’s you offering yourself to me.

I allow my fingers to play with the waistband of the skirt, pushing my little finger under the rim just to be closer to you. ‘Are you afraid?’ I ask now, because if you are I’ll make the decision to get off once we’re back down. We’re about halfway there. ‘No,’ you state, and I’ve never heard a two letter word mean as much. ‘We’re almost at the top,’ I note and I feel you move a little. ‘How do you know,’ you ask and it’s a valid question - My eyes are still closed. I feel your abdominal muscles play under my finger and I allow my eyelids to reveal the beauty in front of me. ‘Open your eyes,’ I ask of you and I pull you a little closer because I want to feel your reaction resonate through your spine. 

You hiss lightly as you obey me and I know I’ve made the right decision taking you up here. ‘It’s magnificent,’ you whisper in awe and I smile next to you. ‘If you look closely you can see our house, there,’ I point with the hand that was holding your hip. ‘I don’t… I see the palace,’ you say, and I chuckle. ‘We don’t need a palace to live like queens. Over there.’ I feel the moment you see it course through your body like a current as your excitement roams carefree. ‘Oh,’ you wonder as your sparkling London eyes feast upon the treasure in front of you, watching your new city close its eyes to the day. Then we reach the highest point and your demeanor changes slightly. 

A shuddering breath leaves you and you stretch your hands before clenching them tightly into two fists. I catch one and pry your hand open, grazing my nails along the insides of your fingers, trying to focus your gaze. You turn your cheek into mine a little and I feel your skin smile against me. ‘I’m okay,’ you say and the fact that you offered this without me asking makes it true. I nod and pull us back a little to move to the west corner of the pod, leaning over to grab a chocolate from the box behind us. I offer it to you and a wicked lightning bolt crosses your eyes as you lick your lips and bite the flesh of the corner before opening them to me. 

The chocolate slides across your tongue as you lean in and take it from me, and now the shiver runs across my back as my body thinks about all the things it wants to do to you. You crack the outside and your eyes stay on mine as you taste it, the action in itself not a sexual one but the innuendo clearer than an evening star. ‘Good?’ I raise my eyebrow at you, teasing, testing, pushing you to see how far I can take you. ‘Hmmm,’ you hum, and you turn back towards the window. You go pensive for a minute and every second I get closer to asking you if you are, indeed, okay. 

‘Are we going down now?’ You need me to confirm what the motion in your body is telling you. ‘Yes,’ I say, ‘We can almost get off. I’m sorry, Dana.’ You turn to me with such grace and integrity it throws me for a moment. ‘For what?’ 

I want to take your hand but my fingers have chocolate on them, and you notice it just as I do. Before my hand can chase gravity back to my side you catch my wrist and, after studying my two chocolate-tipped digits, you do something that will determine the rest of our evening. Your tongue sneaks out to clean one finger, and you smirk as you hear my intake of carefully measured breath. My second fated finger then disappears into your warm mouth as you lick it clean almost matter-of-factly. 

'Distract me,' you say, and now it's me who turns quiet because you can't be asking what I think you're asking and yet here you are, your breathing turning heavy and your spine slowly curving, pushing your body languidly back into mine. You’re always one step ahead of me, and I’ve never met a person that was and didn’t feel the need to point it out all the time. It’s why you’re perfect, and I tell you with my lips against the curve of your neck as my hands brush your hair to one side. 

We’re about halfway down so it pains my heart but I have to say no, there is no time, Dana. But I do want you, and my body needs to tell yours so my hips push against yours and we find ourselves turned back towards the window again. I find one of your hands and place your palm firmly against the glass. ‘You’re safe,’ I affirm, and the bottom two fingers of my right hand find their place under your waistband again. 

The shadows of the construction outside glide across your cotton blend-covered skin like my hands yearn to - I know you’ll feel like the expensive silk I like to shield myself in. Thinking about that - I don't like it. I crave it. And maybe, just maybe you feel the same about this. Your hand stretches against the window, locks itself into place, and your chin tilts down a little as you turn towards me. ‘I want to stay,’ you tell me, and there isn’t a bone in my body that dares to question you. 

As the final daylight disappears it seems to swallow your fears, bury them at the bottom of the Thames and leave them there to be forgotten, at least for now. We stay like that, my body flush against yours, the nails of my hand on yours softly grazing your skin and my lips whispering sweet nothings into your ear until we pass the guard. If he looks at us at all I do not notice, and I hope you aren’t worried about him either, but I think I’ve got you as I allow the hand on your stomach to travel a little lower. We have our backs turned towards the exit so no one will see, Dana, and even if they did - what we have right now can only be envied. I envy us sometimes. 

Your free hand comes up behind you, touching my hip, and you have the audacity to assume I’m not as close as I can possibly be as you push my body towards you. I shift a little, but only to curve my arm around you a little further with the sole purpose of invading your panties. Did you wear lace, Dana? Was this your plan all along, to have me feel you up for our anniversary, wherever I would have taken you? It still surprises me how wildly wanton you really are sometimes, and my body burns with desire at the thought. I hum softly in your ear again, and you throw a slightly hesitant look to the side. ‘He can’t see,’ I murmur and through half-closed eyelids I catch how you bite your lip to hide your smile. I capture it, that slightly reddened part of your plump lips, as it escapes your teeth and you giggle, Dana, I love it when you giggle.

The movement I make to kiss you pushes you further into the window and you gasp. ‘Yes,’ you mutter, and my brain struggles to comprehend and come to terms with what your body is proposing to mine. I desire it, crave it, and apparently, so do you - and I never want to deny you anything. So my hand snakes lower, and you angle your hips slightly, and it’s all I need to encounter the silken warmth of your lower lips.

I suspect you've masturbated today, possibly even climaxed. Your body feels the way it only does when you’ve been touched already, and by default, that means by you. Remember when you asked me once if I’d had sex with someone before joining you in bed late one evening after work? If I'd been touched by someone? Remember what I said to you? "It was just you and me." I wonder if that’s what you’ll say, blushing shyly, were I to ask you the same question now. We’d never talked about being exclusive, but that night I showed you that there never was, never had been and never would be anyone else now that my body knows the secrets of yours. 

You’ve confessed that you can only make yourself come once, and you've told me and shown me many times I'm the only one that can make you orgasm twice, three, four times. And of all the secrets and mysteries that come with our relationship I think that is the most valuable gift. It shows me I'm safe with you. Because you treasure life above all else and in those moments I hold it all in my hands, between my fingers and on the tip of my tongue. Your existence belongs to me as mine does to you. I'm careless with mine, but you - you wouldn't risk it all if you didn't think I valued your life in equal measure. I don’t deserve you, but you seem to have devoted your life to telling me otherwise. 

My fingers find their way easily, and I widen my stance and push my breasts into your back. You are mine, Dana, and you’d do wise to never doubt it or forget it. ‘Behave for me, okay?’ I say and you whimper. ‘S-Stella? Security cameras…’ You don’t see the way my brow arches. ‘What about them? I tease and you melt further into my touch. ‘Stay still, no one will see.’ Of course that makes you move, makes your body arch and your mouth fall open again as your breath catches in your throat.

Briefly I wonder when you had the time to touch yourself. Did you make time? Did you take my advice and take care of your body for once, love it, instead of ignoring its needs like you are so deeply programmed to do? Did you excuse yourself at work? Or was it our bed, the bed I left you wanting in this morning? I never want to leave you, but I always do. Almost daily I promise you I won’t leave you, and every morning I still tear myself away from my promises. It doesn’t hurt you, I know. And I come back to you, like you do to me, each and every single separation. I’ll come back one time more for every instance I have to leave, Dana.

I continue to touch you slowly, we have time now that we’re back on our way up. I want to show you the view, but right now my conscience consists solely of you and exists only for you. You offer me yourself without a second thought, and I feel your nails dig into the bones that connect my body with yours. I trail my fingers down to your wrist, across the grey fabric of your top and all the way back to your upper arm. The tension in your muscles must feel like fire in your bones, because I can sense it burn right there in the curve of your biceps. My fingers take the unexpected route as they curl down your covered skin, along your underarm to the swell of your breast. As I cup it firmly I swirl my fingers across your clit, and you moan.

‘Am I the first to touch you today?’ I finally ask, not because I don’t know the answer but because the library in my head of possible responses you have will undoubtedly be enriched by your reply. ‘No,’ you whisper, ‘but I wish you were.’ It sends an ice cold trail of knowing and longing down to my core and feel your meaning envelop my heart - only you, Dana. Only you. ‘We need to work on that, I promise you a lesson in masturbation and you nod. 

I wonder if I can make you come in the London Eye. I’ve never wondered that before. It’s a unique thought and I wonder if anyone else has ever had this specific idea, ever. It feels uniquely personal and I want nothing more than to ask you. ‘Stella, please touch me,’ you say softly and it almost sounds like you’re begging and suddenly it’s no longer a question of if, but when. We’re up high enough and it’s dark by now, no one will see us, so I push my nose into the skin behind your ear and I pull aside the fabric of your wrap-around top. I fear you might object but you don’t, however I see your eyelids flutter open in surprise. ‘Oh,’ you gasp, and I rake my teeth softly along the tender edge of your earlobe. My breathing is as laboured as yours and your chest heaves, pushing your soft skin into my hand on the rhythm of your pleasure. 

You’re so quiet, but so responsive as the hand that isn’t holding you up against the window wraps around my wrist and clenches it. You need more, I know, and I increase my circling of your pleasure point as my other hand finds your nipple. I wish I could take it in my mouth and give it the attention it deserves but even though I’d do anything for you, I do want us to leave here without getting arrested. I’ve been in the police station long enough for one day. They can have me back tomorrow. Tonight, I’m yours. 

I know the beating of your drum. I know what drives you to the point of no return and I know how to get there, and I challenge myself to make you reach the summit with me. I’ll take you to new heights, my love, in more ways than one as we’ll be suspended high above London soil. I feel you get warmer and wetter as my fingers explore you and I want to touch your insides, make you squirm underneath me, but the angle is wrong and I can’t reach. You straighten your back a little, sensing my struggle, and your hand tells me that I’m enough. I don’t need to worry. Your hand abandons mine and tangles in my hair, pulling my head to your other shoulder. I bury my face in the unruly mass of curls I find there, and I breathe you in, closing my eyes to the overwhelming wave of deep emotion that crashes down upon me. 

You must have felt my shuddering breath as it touched your skin, because the sound of your voice on your next exhale signals to me that you’re about to cry. ‘I got you,’ I whisper, and the hand that was cradling your breast travels to your sternum to hold you up. Your leg muscles have started to tremble wildly under the pressure, and I know that I promised you you wouldn’t fall, but maybe you will, and maybe it’s all you're focusing on now. I push you further into the railing, feeling my wrist trapped between your softness and the steel bar separating us from the world. We’re almost at the top, and as I open my eyes I can see the lights of the city through the ginger cloud that encompasses me. ‘Look,’ I marvel, and I feel the muscles on your cheek move under the weight of your batting eyelashes as your eyes struggle to open. 

The sounds that escape your mouth with every swirl of my finger have me trapped in your spiral with you, and as the pod moves higher and higher so do we. ‘Yes, yes,’ you whimper, but you need more and I push your boundaries once more as my hand moves higher up your chest. I wrap my fingers lightly around your neck, claiming you, and the weight of your head pushes fully into my shoulder. ‘Fuck,’ you groan and I tense my grip on you, promising you to hold on to you, and to let you fly. I control your body, and finally you let go of all your fears and worries and your soul gives itself to mine. I feel the exact moment you tense up completely, and I reach out as my lips openly and wetly capture yours. Trembling fingers push my chin into yours as you release a strangled breath and I feel every muscle in your body tense and relax in wave after wave of the strangest, sexiest, highest orgasm I have ever seen in my life. We are four hundred feet in the air, but you are soaring to the moon and back and you’re taking me with you, forever.

We don’t need the commonality of words as I gently release your neck and hook my finger along the inside of your bra to adjust it. I cover you with your top, tighten the knot on the side and align the seam of your skirt to the middle of your hips. You’re holding the railing with both hands now, and as I come to stand beside you, you tuck your chin to your chest and side-eye me. I, in turn, attempt to take the upper hand as I look down at you, but you break and a smile triggers mine and you lean into me, grateful, beautiful, and my heart once again attempts and succeeds to love you more. 

When we reach the bottom I comb my fingers through your hair and kiss you before I take your hand. You let me lead you back onto the platform and we thank the guard, and I notice how you don’t look at him as a deep blush creeps up your cheek.

We take the chocolates.

As night fully falls around us the weather changes. When we get up from the Underground the sky is full with its familiar darkness. But you know, my dear, those clouds gave color to that sunset we’ll remember forever. Heavy raindrops start to fall and the wind fights with your hair, insulted by the way it defies London's grayscale. But not all storms come to disrupt your life, some come to clear your path and my path is right in front of me now - it is our street, in our city, guiding us to our front door.

I take you back to our home, the residence we co-signed the lease for one month ago, the house with your broken scale and my expensive silk and our front door, our coffee maker and our bed. You let me undress you after you’ve brushed your teeth next to me, and layer by layer I uncover your bare form. You look at me, study me, and I wonder what thoughts inhabit your mind but I do not worry, for I know they are good thoughts. Pure ones. Ones I should be afraid of, but strangely, am not.

Your bare form brushes past me and my legs follow you and I feel free, Dana, so free yet I am under no illusion about how I belong to you. About how fully and sweetly you need me, and I walk with you like I’ll walk with you for as long as you could possibly want me to. 

I close the curtains and you walk up behind me to kiss my shoulder. I smile as you retreat into bed, and as I pull the covers over us I hear you whimper contentedly like a satisfied kitten. Your hands slowly uncover the secrets of my body, and I show you that you were on my mind as much as I was on yours. You find me warm, wet, and nothing remains hidden between us as you tell me how perfect this all is to you. I don’t believe it, I never have and never will, but I promised myself I’d live in this fairy tale with you - so I do, once, twice, until your tousled hair finds its place back next to mine and your hand curls around my slickened breast. ‘I love you,’ I finally say, and as you whisper it back to me I marvel at how to hear the words come out of my mouth will never be normal, but to hear you say them back to me will always be nothing short of extraordinary. 

You never do comment on the skirt. 


End file.
